


Emmalee Trevelyan Drabble Collection

by welseykels



Series: Dragon Age: Emmalee Trevelyan [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-07-18 21:01:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7330525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/welseykels/pseuds/welseykels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of all the prompts and drabbles about Inquisitor Emmalee Trevelyan and her LI, Cullen. Also includes her alternate universe version where she was not born into the Trevelyan family or as a mage and instead becomes a cook for the Inquisition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rift Cakes

**Author's Note:**

> [Check out my writing masterpage on tumblr!](https://welseykels.tumblr.com/writing)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen learns that his new love talks in her sleep at times. Prompted.

Cullen sleeps lightly most nights, for those when he falls into a deeper slumber tend to lead him to parts of the Fade that he would prefer not to revisit.  And so, sleeping lightly meant that he would be able to wake with the slightest of noises.  It came in handy when one was sleeping on the road - vulnerable to attack - but not so much when one was safely asleep in their quarters beside their lover.  

_His lover who was now babbling in her sleep._

He shifted as lightly as he could, trying his hardest not to jostle her arm that was flung over his waist as he turned over to face her.  

“ _Mmmmm. More._ ”

His lips twitched up into a wicked grin, he knew those words - knew the tone she had used for the short word.  He could guess at what was occurring in the Fade.  At least he hoped.  

“ _Cullen. Yes._ ”

… He definitely knew what was occurring… perhaps a reminder of their earlier activities that evening?  His cheeks warmed at the thought.  But then barely a few seconds later, her brow furrowed and he fought the urge to brush his fingers against her cheek to soothe her, lest he wake her.

“ _Mmmm._   _Cullen. Now you’ve ruined it._ ”

His own brows shot up.  That certainly wasn’t the tone she usually used in… intimate situations - the words full of frustration and disappointment.   _Maker_ … His words were barely a whisper, and he wondered if they would reach her.  “Ruined what, Emma?”

“ _The cake, Cullen.  You’ve put too many rifts into the cake._ ”

He snorted, a little too loudly he supposed, her eyes blearily blinking open at the sound. _Dreaming of cakes made out of bloody fade rifts?_

“Cullen?”  Her voice was barely a mumble as he pulled her closer to him.

“It’s alright, love.  Go back to sleep.”  She didn’t protest and it was barely any time at all before her breathing evened once more.  

_Rift cakes. Maker’s breath._


	2. Lessons In The Chant Of Light (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumours are circulating around Skyhold of the Inquisitor and her Commander misusing the garden Chantry. Prompted.

Emmalee only wanted the floor to eat her whole.  Maybe if she broke open a rift on this very spot she’d never have to show her face in public again. **  
**

They’d been almost finished in their war meeting when Leliana had mentioned that there was a rumour circulating around Skyhold, one that had a written testament to it as well from one of her own scouts - a rumour about the Inquisitor. _Her._  Emmalee had made the mistake of asking Leliana to read it aloud rather than taking the report and reading it herself.  She’d been frustrated with the lack of privacy she had now - not that she’d had much before in the Circle - but she hated the constant rumours.  She should have read it on her own, in the safety of her own quarters - but a foolish whim wanted to hear it now.

“ _One day past, I came to find the garden’s Chantry door locked in the mid-afternoon after I’d noticed a small impatient crowd gathering around it.  I knocked on the door several times, but found no answer.  Only when I pressed my ear to the door to ascertain if there was someone indeed inside, a masculine and familiar voice called out the Herald of Andraste’s name. At first I thought it was a fervent prayer, until I heard a very feminine and familiar voice call out the Commander’s name in turn. I dispersed the crowd after that, but thought best to let you know that it has been hard to keep the events of that afternoon quiet among our guests._ ”

Emmalee barely dared to glance up at Cullen, and when she did she found his face flushed, the vein in his forehead protruding enough for her to start to worry about his health. _Maybe she’d open a  rift large enough for them both._  

It was then that Leliana handed the parchment to Emmalee, she didn’t want to look at it, but written there were the exact words that the woman had read aloud. “I did not think you were Andrastian, Inquisitor. Had your journey at Adamant changed your mind?”

“Well, no, but we - but I-” The ground has become of particular interest to Emmalee as she refused to glance up from it. She tried to think of any excuse, but all her thoughts would drift to was her front pressed against the stone skirt of Andraste’s statue, her Commander pressed up closely behind her, both reveling in the thrill of taking carnal pleasure in such a holy place.

“I was-” Cullen voice was stained, barely managing to get out the words when he tried to nobly save her from her own fumbling words. “I was teaching her the Chant of Light.”

Josephine giggled.  “It must have been quite the lesson.”

Emmalee wondered if the garden will be suspiciously empty the next time she and Cullen entered the Chantry, as Leliana smiled knowingly. “Quite the lesson indeed.” 


	3. Marks of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inquisition Cook AU: A week after Cullen asks Emmalee to move into his loft with him, he finally has a morning alone with her. Prompted.

It had been a week since he’d asked her to forgo the kitchen staff’s quarters and move into his loft with him.  She’d been first to rise all week, despite his usual penchant to be awake far before dawn, her shifts for cooking and serving breakfast to the Inquisition keeping them from lazing in bed together once they woke.  

But today, today was different.  He’d scheduled training with his recruits late in the afternoon, and had asked Leliana - who’d given him a knowing look - that any war meetings were not to take place until well after midday.

_Why?_

It was Emmalee’s day of rest from the kitchens.

 _And he was taking advantage of every second of it._  

He’d give her a chance to explore… later, much later.  But now… now was the longest time he’d had with her since he’d officially begun courting her.  He’d never understood the feelings before, but it gave him a sort of primal joy as he nipped at her skin, as he mapped her freckles and curves with his tongue and teeth and lips.

She sighed his name as he worked at her neck, sucking every so lightly against her skin, but he wanted to be sure before he left anything that would stay far beyond today.  

“May I?”

A chuckle.  “Everyone already knows, Cullen.  So, yes.”

His lips twitched upwards at that.  He might not have cared for the gossip, _the Commander of the Inquisition with a lowly servant_.  He hated - loathed - hearing that.  But he couldn’t help the thrill of what the rumors implied - that she was his.  That he was hers.  But the greatest thrill of all came from the reality - _that she somehow thought he was worthy of her._

And so, he returned to the soft flesh at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, sucking harder than he had before.  Only when a bruise had started to form did he start in another area, marking her as many times as he would let him, which he realized was as much as he wanted to. Finally, when she was covered to his satisfaction with evidence of his desire for her, did she push against him until they rolled, she straddling him - causing a view he couldn’t deny that he would want to be his last before he met the Maker.  

“I think it’s my turn, Commander.”  She practically purred and he hoped that each day together could be like this.

And Maker, he wanted to be littered with her affection.


	4. The Bunny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU: Based on [this post](http://tumblr.tastefullyoffensive.com/post/133799182046/photo-by-technicallyron#.VoGp6BUrKUk), Cullen arrives home from work to find Emmalee crying. Prompted.

Cullen threw his keys onto the kitchen island as he entered their apartment.  Emmalee had had the day off, the bakery closed for a few days while a leak was repaired in the kitchen.  She’d arrived one morning to find a foot of water come bursting out at her the moment she’d opened the door.  

He called out her name, hearing the only noise of the television and something else.  Was it a sniffle?

_Was she sick?_

That’s when he rounded the corner of the hallway wall and saw her curled up on the couch, Lieutenant sitting on the floor in front of her, her arms wrapped around the hound’s shoulders as tears rolled down her face.

“Em, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”  It took only seconds before he was kneeling before her, hands wiping away tears, trying to make sure he was alright.  “Em?”

A sniffle left her again before her hand gestured to the television, playing what he could only assume was a nature documentary, a soothing voice explaining the life cycle of the snowshoe hare.  “The bunny… it..” Another sniff when her voice cracked.  “It got away… from the fox.”

_Maker’s breath._

He chuckled, drawing a frown from his wife, as he moved to sit on the couch beside her, pulling her under his arm.  “This is getting added to the list, you know that, right?”

“I know.”


	5. Slower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen gets caught in the rain on the way to his tower. Prompted.

The rain had come on suddenly as Cullen had sparred with one of his captains in the upper courtyard.  They had been up early, well before there was any chance for a crowd to gather around them - which Cullen found he much preferred.  Even Emmalee, who usually liked to be a spectator whenever he trained, was still fast asleep - in his bed.  The thought brought a smile to his lips as he deflected a sword’s blow with his shield.

They had paid no mind to the few droplets that fell, it only mingling with their sweat.  But only mere moments later, when near torrential downpours threatened to turn the grounds into mud, did they decide to call an end to their activities.

By the time he reached his tower he was soaked down to his bones.  He could feel the fabric of his tunic and trousers cling to every inch of him.  He was tempted to strip down as soon as he walked through his tower’s door, but he wasn’t ready for the chill that would cling to his skin if he did… and he didn’t want to leave sopping wet clothing in the middle of his office.  Maker, their Orlesian guess would cause quite the stir with rumours about that if they found out.

So he climbed his ladder, step by step, until his head crested to find the Inquisitor - his lover - awake and sitting up in bed reading.  _And she was wonderfully naked, the blankets slung low over her hips._

A slow smile crept over her lips as she saw him. But then she bit her lip as her eyes traveled downward from his face. Only then did he look down himself, seeing how translucent his white tunic had become.

He laughed as he began to pull it up, her answering words out before it was even halfway past his belly button. “Slower.” She cleared her throat. “Take it off slower.”

He couldn’t hide the grin that fought it’s way easily onto his lips. “As my lady commands.”


	6. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re the only one I trust to do this.” for Emma and Cullen. Prompted.
> 
> Inquisition Cook AU.

“I don’t know, Cullen.  I - what if I don’t get it right?”

A chuckle came from behind her in Skyhold’s kitchen, hands slowly finding a place on her hips as she kneaded at the dough in front of her.  They had a space to themselves, the rest of the kitchen staff having finished their shifts after dinner had been taken care of - no one would be back until the pre-dawn preparation for breakfast.

Being the head of Skyhold’s kitchen had its perks.  As well as having the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces being the reason you were there after hours in the first place.

His breath tickled behind her ear as the full length of his body settled behind her against her back.  “You’re the only one I trust to do this.”

Now was her turn to laugh, full and loud and echoing off the stone walls.  “That doesn’t exactly make me feel better about replicating your mother’s recipe.”  

His hands moved in soothing lines down her sides as she worked away, preparing what she hoped would remind him of home, remind him of the life he had left at thirteen.  He’d mentioned it one day as they’d laid in bed above his office, how he’d always missed the dough sliders his mother had added to her Ferelden beef stews.  His favourite of meals.

She’d always thought it was fate that the first thing she’d ever served him was stew. She wondered sometimes, even if she wasn’t Andrastian like he, that the Maker had somehow brought them together.  She leaned more into his touch as she added the cut dough to the pot.  “I hope it’s how you imagine.”

He nuzzled her neck, “It’ll be perfect because you made it. That’s all that matters.”

She had to smile at that.


	7. Cullen's Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You know how I feel about birthdays." for Cullen and Emma. Prompted.
> 
> About two year’s post-Trespasser, South Reach.

Cullen halfheartedly huffs as he settles in the chair at their kitchen table - he’s not ungrateful, it’s just unexpected.  “You know how I feel about birthdays.”

_Another year older, another year gone._

She perches herself at the centre of the table, holding out the small gift towards him.  The image conjures similar ones from the past, her sitting across his desk at Skyhold, a wicked grin on her lips. “I know - I just thought… well, you’ll see.”

He takes the package from her hand - it’s wrapped in a simple plain paper, with a silver bow.  She knows he wouldn’t want the fuss, that this - that this is much more than he ever needed - he had what he needed now, he did not require more. 

“I hope,” she stumbles over her words, worry working it’s way across her face. “I hope you’ll like it.”  His gut tightens at the words.   _Why does she think he will not like her gift?_

He unwraps the paper carefully, Lieutenant’s head popping up from under the table to help him work it away. Cullen crumbles it into a ball and throws it across the room for the hound to chase.  

The box is plain as well, and his fingers hesitate to lift the lid from it.  He glances away from it and up to her in time to see her bite her lip - and his chest swells with the urge to kiss her then.  But he tears his eyes away from her when she moves her gaze back down to the box, fingers covering his own to lead him into opening.

He barely breathes when he sees the contents.   _Why would she be giving him a folded piece of paper?_

He cocks a brow.   _A sheet of paper?_

It isn’t until he reads the words written on the paper, not in her hand, but in the local healer’s, a date written on the page, indicating when Emma’s - _their_ \- child will arrive.

“Truly?”

She nods.

And he smiles as his vision blurs with tears.


End file.
